Tuesday 8th August: Dunkerque to Ghent: 130 K.

‘A crash, a Japanese meal and an introduction to Belgian headwinds’
O.K. so I knew that this was one of the longest days on the peace cycle,
but it was flat 'almost' all of the way and we had no media events until
the evening, when we had a lovely Japanese meal to look forward to.
The only thing was, I had cycled in nearby 'flat' Holland over twenty
years previously, and remembered then that flat cycling in the Netherlands
could be totally scuppered by a headwind that we had nicknamed the 'Breeze
Block' - which felt somewhat like cycling into a wall. Well, guess what,
the Breeze block had come to Belgium to meet us. However, we got into a
rhythm and steadily ate up the miles – the scenery of northern Belgium is
frankly not that stunning and on the odd occasions that we did cycle
through villagers there were very few people around. As Ben said later on
the ride, ‘Belgium seems to be place to be if you want a quiet life.’
I think it was today that the Peace cycle song was born – and its first
verse goes something like this….

The Peace Cycle is on its way
Cycling through your town today.
A justice call for Palestine
So join your voice along with mine.
Freedom
Justice
Freedom
Justice!!

Simple I know, but you try singing your heart out cycling uphill as you
enter a town!

We were also perfecting our Peace cycle terminology and Mohammad has
learnt a few crucial English terms:
‘Bunch up’ meaning get close together at red lights and other junctions so
that the whole peleton can move off as a well oiled machine. An extra
bonus was if we did so without any crashes.
‘Overtaking’ – well its obvious, but Mohammad found this a little long
winded so chose to use the more efficient term ‘Pass’. We knew all was
well with the world when we heard a breathy ‘Pass’ and a moment later
Mohammad sailed past, broad grin on face and Palestinian flag adorned
somewhere about his person or his bike (we’d stopped the one handed
videoing on the grounds of safety).
Heidi skilfully negotiated lunch today in the picnic area of a roadside
café – suddenly very basic plastic seats, toilets and, treat of treats, a
free drink courtesy of the Peace cycle budget, all seem very attractive.
And even better, the café was opposite a bike shop and those who lacked
lights or other accessories were able to stock up.

The first part of the afternoon was tough for me – the wind was really
getting to me and was risking totally defeating me when it was also
combined with a gentle incline. I was seriously doubting my ability to
finish the day on the bike, but managed to get through my blip with the
help of fantastic encouragement from other riders and the support crew,
especially Sheridan who managed to manoeuvre the red van slightly ahead of
me to shelter me from the wind.

The final part of the day was through more urban settings and gradually
into Ghent – I had got over my ‘blip’, the cycling was OK and we were
cycling on cycle paths, well separated from the noise of the major traffic
beside us but still visible to them.
The next thing I knew, I was flying through the air – wondering vaguely
why Steve (who I knew was just behind me) should want to knock me off my
bike and also petrified by the thought that the 6 or 7 riders just behind
me were bound to crash into me as I landed on the gravel. To their credit,
all of them managed to stop without hitting me or causing another
accident. As I sobbed into Steve’s arms I became aware of Melinda yelling
in very clearly understandable English to a Belgian road cyclist, who was
standing warily 20 metres away. And when Melinda’s angry, you know about
it however little English you speak. It was the Belgian cyclist, not Steve
at all, who was the guilty party, having decided presumably that he wanted
to get past our group even though there was no room to do so.
So I spent the final 15 or 20 K of the day in the support van after all,
after being efficiently mopped up by Sheridan. Luckily the bike was OK and
my injuries were only grazes and bruises, but I was furious that I had not
managed to finish the day due to, of all things, a fellow cyclist.

And so to Ghent, where we were able to savour the delights of a Formula
One Hotel (clean, efficient, but somewhat resembling the inside of an
aeroplane). Our day was not finished though – we were invited to a
reception at the local youth hostel in Ghent, which was also home to an
international peace centre, where a Japanese meal was being prepared in
our honour. Our hosts wanted us, if possible, to arrive by bicycle, so
after the usual rushed showers it was back on the bikes for a short ride
into the centre of Ghent. The hazards of Ghent include sneaky tram tracks
– Asim managed to fall off only twice – and cobbled streets which make you
feel as though you’re inside a tumble drier.
We received a lovely welcome and posed for photo opportunities outside the
hostel doors. Then it was inside for drinks, welcome speeches and a bit of
mingling and leafleting with other guests and visitors to the hostel. One
of the slightly anarchic things about the Peace Cycle is that because we
never have enough time to get fully briefed (no-one’s fault – it’s because
we’re packing so much in) you arrive at a place and you’re not sure
whether the people there are there because of the Peace cycle or just
happen to be there anyway. Language differences add to the confusion and
you quickly adapt to ‘going with the flow’ and just talking to whoever you
can when you’ve got the energy.
It turned out that the person preparing our meal that night was actually
from Hiroshima and the peace cycle had of course set off from London on
Hiroshima Day. I think today was the day before Nagasaki Day – but, in any
event, tonight’s meal had very special significance as a meal for peace in
many senses of the word.
The only slight problem, and I feel rather guilty mentioning it, was that
by now the Peace cyclists were all extremely hungry and I think that the
chefs had slightly underestimated the numbers of people eating that night
and also our enormous appetites. Suffice it to say that they produced some
lovely food – and then spent an hour or so cooking up more and more pots
of noodles to satisfy our endless appetites.
It was though, a lovely evening and it was the first time I think that we
realised that when we passed through a place this was quite a big deal for
the local group, and was a sort of motivating force for them in terms of
peace activities. We had a shortish meeting after our meal – meetings to
both debrief and to discuss the plans for the next day are an essential
part of the ride but also extremely difficult to fit in when there are
evening events.
And so, the short cycle ‘home’  - I think Asim only crashed in the tram
tracks once. Oh, and Fares led a small raiding party on a chip shop to
fill a very small hole in his ample stomach.

Wednesday 9th August: Ghent to Brussels
‘Bunching up in Brussels’
Today was a much shorter day but, guess what, no time for sauntering
because we had to get to Brussels by 3 p.m. for a reception and then to
join a protest action in the centre of Brussels. The evening before Dawn
had been nominated as lead rider (our first female lead rider – hooray!)
and Kieran as our tail rider. It was great to realise that the lead rider
did not have to be the fastest or strongest person (Dawn is a really fit
and strong rider, but had also found the previous day hard cycling against
the wind) – the aim of the game was getting the whole group to the end of
the day. As his Mum, I was slightly anxious about Kieran’s nomination as
tail rider – was it too much responsibility for him and would he be
assertive enough when he needed to be? Of course, I needn’t have worried
on either count.

The riding was not too difficult today but we did have to keep a good pace
up, and today we also perfected our ability to find uninspiring places for
breaks – supermarket car parks take on a whole new meaning when you know
that there is a chance to
a) get off your bike saddle
b) shove some dried fruit down your throat
c)  go to the toilet.
Oh, and I forgot d), developed by Sheridan, which is to spend a happy few
minutes giving out leaflets to supermarket customers. We did manage to
upset a few Flemish speakers by our attempt to give them French language
leaflets, but on the whole I was amazed by the politeness of Belgian
shoppers. They would normally stop, and read the leaflet through
conscientiously before carrying on with their shopping.
We had some Belgian riders with us and a lovely young couple (Natalie and
Nurdine) joined us during the day who were to stay with us through to
Bastogne. One of the Belgian cyclists navigated us into Brussels –
Brussels, unlike much of Belgium, is not a bike friendly city and the
approach into Brussels was particularly unpleasant, with no choice but to
join a dual carriageway.

We arrived in Brussels early, after I think Heidi had negotiated for the
University people who were receiving us to come and meet us in Brussels
city centre rather than us ride out to the university, back into the city
and then back out to the university again for the evening event. At least
I think that was the plan – as I said, as a cyclist you quickly learn to
‘go with the flow’ . At any rate, we did some good chanting and singing
coming into the city and then spent ages lurking at a car park entrance
(we find such picturesque places to stop!) while deciding how to spend the
time we now had spare. We eventually decided to walk round the city
handing out leaflets – Brussels is mainly French speaking so fortunately,
thanks to the people doing the hard work back in the UK  having got
leaflets translated, we had lots of these, as well as English language
versions.

Then it was back to the car park entrance to meet up for the short cycle
to the demonstration. We got ourselves reasonably well lined up and cycled
down to the square, riding into the square between lines of people
applauding us. These are the moments when you get slightly high and decide
you are more famous than the Tour de France  - and then have to remind
yourself that the ride is not about you but about justice for the
Palestinians, which is the only way of achieving the peace that everyone
talks about for all the people of the Middle East. I must admit though, we
did look great with the flags on bikes and our green bibs. We lined up in
front of our welcoming crowd and sang our song (fairly tunefully thanks to
Irshad’s lead – what would we do without him?). Then it was chanting,
speeches and press interviews – Agnes did an interview in French and then
I did one – although my French collapsed at the end and the lovely
interviewer rescued me in her perfect English.
Some of us set up the stall and sold plenty of t-shirts and some of the
anti war CDs. The Brussels group had plain white t shirts which people
were decorating with pictures and messages for us to take on to Palestine
– another box of stuff to be squeezed into the van but a very welcome one
of course. I wonder how many more gifts the group will gather along the
way?
And then, off to the Free University of Brussels, which I gather has long
standing links with Palestine, particularly with Birzeit University, and
which was hosting a barbecue for us. We arrived soaking wet and rather
cold, to a rather bleak underground car park and the news that some of us
would need our bikes later as we’d be cycling to our accommodation (we
were staying with families that night). Those of us who would have to
cycle tried to look stoical and Ben and Jerry (not the ice cream) kindly
offered to swop.
Straight to some longed for showers in the sports stadium  and a swim in
the pool for those with spare energy (where I gather Mohammad entertained
with a dramatic belly flop into the pool – having “not quite heard” the
lifeguard’s instruction ‘not to dive’ ). Meanwhile, concerns about the
green van (which was not coping well with travelling at 10 mph through
Belgium) were growing and it was going to have to be taken off to a van
hospital.
Showers and clean(ish) clothes later, it was down to the university
culture café for a barbecue, speeches and our stall. We entertained the
adoring crowds (sorry, got carried way there, but they did like it) with
our Peace cycle song, and of course, ate as much food as we could.  We
also said a said farewell to Dawn – w all felt as though we’d known her
for years rather than days and she’d been a great lead rider, even though
she ‘didn’t like being bossy’.
We gradually got introduced to the people who we were staying with that
night – the best bit of news for me and Kieran were first, that we would
go by tram rather than bike, and even better when we were offered a lift
by car. Yes, I know private transport is a bad thing but there are times
when the back seat of someone’s car is very attractive.
And so, to bed, in a lovely rambling old Brussels town house, well looked
after by Bruno and Tina.